


I Can Stop Anytime I Want

by ADeedWithoutaName



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Feeding, M/M, Stuffing, Wincest - Freeform, Wincestiel - Freeform, belly!kink, wing!kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 21:47:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3666447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADeedWithoutaName/pseuds/ADeedWithoutaName
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is, of course, aware that something strange is going on.  Famine's influence has him stuffing himself constantly, Sam craving demon blood, and humans dying on all sides of them.  So they should be focusing on the Horseman.  And not the fact that Dean can't seem to keep his hands off of either of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can Stop Anytime I Want

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written as a request on FanFiction.Net. Requests are currently closed.

"Famine?"

Dean's arms were folded across his chest, his green eyes skeptical and guarded as he stared down at Castiel. Castiel nodded, his focus dropping to the cheeseburger in his hand as he peeled back the wrapper and bit into it. He felt his eyelids flutter closed in momentary pleasure, a reaction that he couldn't control; flavor exploded across his vessel's tongue. It wasn't a part of Jimmy Novak that he usually paid attention to, and he was regretting that now.

"Yes," he said, speaking past a full mouth. He'd seen doing it plenty of times, and figured that it was all right.

Water splashed against the porcelain of the bathroom sink. Castiel could hear it rebounding off of the chips and cracks in the basin as Sam called, "So...what? This whole town is just gonna eat, drink, and screw itself to death?" His voice was ragged, strained. Castiel could see him wiping his face and neck with a washcloth, and could tell that it was cold. Probably because his body temperature was elevated past normal. Castiel decided not to comment on it, since he might get snapped at.

"We should stop it," he said matter-of-factly, before swallowing. He took another bite of his burger, frowning as he noticed that he was almost done with it. Something inside of him - something non-angelic - was already crying out for more, pitiful and desperate.

"Yeah. Great idea." Dean had begun to pace, agitation rolling off of him in waves. It made Castiel's wings twitch inside of him. They twitched a little harder when Dean threw a glance at him, at his stomach, his hands, his mouth. Castiel didn't understand the feeling that the glance conveyed, or the one that it brought to the surface in him. He swallowed uncomfortably. "How?"

Castiel barely managed not to flinch at the caustic tone in his voice as he countered, "How did you stop the last Horseman you met?"

Dean started muttering something about a ring while, in the bathroom, Sam leaned heavily against the counter. He was rubbing at his face, which was still wet with cold water. His dark hair fell into his eyes in sweat-clumped strands. Castiel could see his broad chest heaving underneath his T-shirt, and could sense and feel something familiar there. A foreign urge, which his beset grace reached for in complete sympathy. Unnatural hunger brought on by Famine. Castiel swallowed his last bite of cheeseburger, and let his tongue dart out to lap at the grease in the folds of the parchment-paper wrapper, barely even thinking about it.

"You even listening to me?" Dean demanded, sounding on edge and angry. When he snapped his fingers right in front of Castiel's nose, he jerked back, startled. His wings flared a little in a defensive display but, of course, Dean couldn't see them. "Jesus."

Castiel hastily dropped the crumpled wrapper back into the bag. "Sorry." He was tied deeply into his vessel's human reactions at the moment, and he could feel heat creeping across his cheeks. A blush. An involuntary display of embarrassment. "What did you say?"

"I asked you if you think Famine has a class ring, too." Dean was leaning down in order to be closer to Castiel, where he was sitting on the bed, and enunciating carefully. "Y'know. Like War had?"

"I know he does." Castiel didn't lean back, even though he suspected that Dean wanted him to. He just peered into the wide mouth of his empty bag, at the wrapper that no longer held anything, and bit his lip as the voice of hunger whimpered again.

Sam was shaking now, looking at himself in the mirror and licking his full lips. Castiel knew he was hearing the same voice. He didn't know just what it was that Sam was hungry for (his grace-given powers didn't include mind-reading, which he regarded as both a blessing and a curse), but he could certainly guess, and he prayed that Sam was better at controlling his need than Castiel was.

His attention flicked back to Dean, lightning-fast, when he heard him swallow. Hard. He'd only ever heard him make that sort of noise with his throat when he was frightened...or aroused. And even then, only when those feelings were intense enough to warrant a physical response. He must be terrified of the idea of meeting Famine in battle, which Castiel couldn't blame him for. Arousal made no sense in this situation. He wasn't entirely sure why Dean's green eyes, brighter than he'd ever seen them, seemed to focused on his vessel's middle, but maybe he just needed something to look at while he gathered his thoughts.

"Okay." Dean had straightened up. His gaze had shifted to his duffel. Which Castiel knew held a rune-covered knife capable of killing demons. And cutting through the fingers of Horsemen, apparently. "L - " He stopped, and swallowed again. "Let's track him down and get to chopping."

Castiel cocked his head. He'd never known Dean to stutter.

Famine must scare him worse than he'd thought, though he couldn't imagine why. He brushed it off, getting to his feet. He put a hand on his vessel's stomach as he did so, and frowned. There was a slight bulge there, a feeling of fullness. He had no idea how much he'd eaten, having been more focused on the eating itself than keeping track of it, but it must have been quite a bit. Under ordinary circumstances, his grace would burn through anything he ate in an instant. It had gotten sluggish, though; allowed him to actually get full. He blinked. It would have taken millions of calories to do that.

He looked down into his empty fast food bag against, but this time, he was wary. Dean misunderstood the gesture.

"What are you?" Dean was digging through his duffel bag with a viciousness that suggested he would have preferred his hands to be buried in something's flayed torso. In Castiel's opinion, he was speaking a little too loudly. That meant that he was uncomfortable. "The Hamburglar?"

Castiel stiffened a little, the downies of his wings bristling.

"I've developed a taste for ground beef," he said, voice cold and offended. This was not his fault, and Dean should know that.

"Well, have you even tried to stop it?" Dean was staring down at his duffel bag. He'd stopped sorting through its contents.

"I'm an angel," Castiel announced defensively, deliberately balling up the bag and tossing it towards the motel room's small garbage can. He missed, which disturbed him further. His grace should give him perfect reflexes and aim. "I can stop anytime I want."

Dean stood up, his back to Castiel. He didn't seem to notice the wad of crumpled paper lying on the floor next to the trash can as he carefully polished his knife on his T-shirt. In the bathroom, Sam stared at his reflection with wide eyes, trembling. The stomach of Castiel's vessel growled insistently.

"But not right now, right?" The growl seemed to have been a cue for Dean to speak. His voice was still too loud, and Castiel was certain that he could hear uneasiness in it.

"What?" he asked. He crossed the room, agitated. His wings were flexing involuntarily, a side effect of his uncontrollable desire to leave, to fly, to seek out more food. Grilled meat and processed cheese. Grease, salt, fat.

"Right now. You don't wanna stop _right now_." Bootsteps on the matted carpet sounded behind him. Dean was following. Probably concerned, or irritated, or both. "Did someone leave a window open or something? Swear there's a draft in here."

He was close enough to feel the breeze that Castiel's moving wings were creating. He turned around to face him, seized by the sudden and irrational fear that Dean might try to touch his feathers. He was positive that he couldn't handle that level of intimacy - not right now.

"No. I don't," Castiel said, casting his eyes downward so that he was staring at Dean's boots. He was lying, and the knowledge made his grace wither inside of him. He wished he could stop, he was powerless to, and he didn't want Dean to know that.

"Why haven't you gone to get more, then?" Dean asked. It wasn't challenging, it wasn't teasing - it sounded like an honest question.

"We were having a conversation," Castiel replied. He suddenly noticed that he was standing very close to Dean, so close that they were breathing each other's air. Castiel through reflex, Dean through necessity. He and Sam hated when they did this, because they claimed that he was in their "personal space," so Castiel took a healthy step backwards. But Dean followed him. Perhaps he'd moved past his fixation on isolation. "We still are. From what you've told me, it would be rude to leave right now."

Dean reached up and scrubbed a hand through his short hair, looking a little pained, before he asked, "D'you have to go get it? Or can you...I don't know, summon it?"

Castiel blinked slowly, looking at the collar of Dean's T-shirt as he considered. Flying was easier. Summoning would be yet another strain on his grace, slowing it down even more. But he said, "I could summon more. Sate my craving."

The tip of Dean's tongue darted out, wetting his full lips, and Castiel blinked slowly again as he watched. When Dean moved, he didn't think much of it; not until he felt a large, callused hand on the shallow curve of his vessel's stomach. He looked down, and tried to move back again, uncertain just what Dean was trying to do. But his wings bumped against the cheap, lead-laced paint of the motel's wall.

"Dean," Castiel began. His stomach growled underneath Dean's palm, and he swallowed, wishing that he knew how to stifle the many involuntary sounds and movements that his vessel made.

"Summon some more." Dean's other hand crept up, cupping the side of Castiel's jaw and then moving up to stroke his windblown hair. Castiel felt his eyes widen, and his body shivered with something that he couldn't quite identify. "Doesn't even have to be burgers. Any kinda fast food. Whatever you're hungry for, Cas."

Castiel was vaguely aware of Sam, still in the bathroom and still struggling desperately with his inner demons, as he raised his hands and spread his wings with a strange, excited flutter. But, mostly, he was aware of Dean. Close-cropped hair, heat pumping off of him, green eyes that bored into Castiel's with a feverish intensity as a paper bag stuffed with cheeseburgers appeared in his hands. It was heavy and warm, and smelled so tempting that Castiel really couldn't hold back a whimper. That got a smirk out of Dean.

"Oh...you're hungry," he murmured, voice soft and eyes still fixed on Castiel's. "Can't imagine why..." His hand moved on his vessel's belly, rubbing and gently squeezing, and Castiel couldn't imagine why it almost made him moan. "Haven't seen you all day without your mouth full. There's gotta be ten pounds of junk food in here."

"No." Just under one pound, at the moment. Castiel's wings, spread to their full ten-foot span, shivered and rattled against the wall. His hips twitched forward, full belly pressing firmly into Dean's hand.

"Don't lie to me," Dean said, shaking his head. Castiel bit back another whimper, thinking about the lie that he'd already told him, as Dean's hand dropped from his hair and into the bag. He drew out a burger, slowly peeling back its wrapper. "Doesn't matter how much you've already eaten, Cas. You can always have more."

Castiel was aware that food was integral to modern human courtship rituals, but he doubted that it was ever involved quite like this. And...why would Dean be courting him? Confusion buzzed through him, making every feather on his wings ruffle (maybe he should fold them), but he felt something that explained all of this when Dean pressed the cheeseburger into his mouth with a gentle, "Eat."

Hunger.

The same kind that was burning in Sam, and in Castiel himself - the kind that had its roots in the Horseman Famine. It was well-hidden in Dean, finer than one of Castiel's smallest feathers. That was why he hadn't been able to see it until it'd popped to the surface, driving Dean. But what was he hungry for? Castiel?

The thought made his wings flare a little wider. He swallowed, just barely realizing that he'd been chewing this entire time. Only half of the burger to was left, and Dean was eagerly pushing it on him. His hand was still on his vessel's middle, feeling experimentally, and Castiel couldn't help but like it. Love it, actually. He opened his mouth wider, swallowed, and soon found paper pressing against his lips. Dean laughed, and Castiel looked up at him, sucking the remnants of meat from between his teeth.

"Good boy." He tossed the empty wrapper onto the ground with a careless, "I'll-pick-it-up-later" flick of his wrist. "Still hungry, Cas?"

Castiel hesitated, then nodded. Dean was already unwrapping another cheeseburger. He drew his wings in, half-folding them, and started, "Dean, you aren't - "

He was cut off by bun and cheese and patty, as Dean shoved the sandwich into his mouth. Castiel obediently began to chew, and felt his eyelids sink until they were covering half of his eyes. He felt sure that the rest must be glassy with pleasure.

"Don't talk, Cas," Dean chided. "C'mon, you must be starving. Stuffing your face for hours on end is hard work." While Castiel ate, not having to move anything but his jaw because more burger was pushed into his mouth every time that he took a bite, Dean's hand slipped momentarily off of his vessel's belly. He groped purposefully at the prominent jut of Jimmy Novak's hip, and Castiel whined in the back of his throat. An unfamiliar sensation made his primaries twitch. Dean made a disapproving noise. "Jesus, Cas, why're you so damn skinny? Thought angels were supposed to be all soft and chubby."

"Cherubim," Castiel murmured, mouth stuffed full. "Class of cupids." One of which they'd encountered earlier, making them all uncomfortable. "I'm a seraph." Much higher up than a cherub. He felt a momentary flash of pride, even though Dean obviously wasn't paying attention to what he was saying.

"Still got a round belly, though," Dean countered, throwing the second wrapper aside once it was empty. His hand was back in its original position. He pushed slightly, causing a small, startled burp to pop out of Castiel, and grinned. "Getting rounder."

Castiel saw his chance and took it. "Dean, you aren't in full control of yourself." He was still holding the bag, and Dean plucked out a third burger, unwrapping it.

"What?" he asked, sounding like he hadn't even heard what Castiel had said. He tore a piece off of the cheeseburger, and dangled it at roughly the same height as Castiel's forehead. Castiel couldn't help himself. He tipped his head back and opened his mouth with a groan of need, seconds away from jumping up and snapping at the scrap of meat and bread. Luckily, Dean dropped it onto his tongue and saved him from that embarrassment.

"Famine - " Castiel tried again, swallowing. But then there was another fragment of burger hanging above him, and whatever he'd been about to say was driven thoroughly from his mind.

"Yeah, I know, Cas. I wanna get rid of him just as much as you do, trust me," Dean said, voice both firm and placating. He dropped this second piece into Castiel's open mouth, and grinned as he chewed. "Just like feeding a baby bird."

"No, Dean - " Another piece. Castiel's wings twitched, and his mouth opened. The white cotton of his button up was beginning to rub against his skin. Especially after he'd swallowed this latest mouthful.

"We'll go, Cas," Dean said, shaking his head as he popped piece after piece into Castiel's mouth. "Just as soon as you're fed. Okay?"

Another empty wrapper bounced across the floor, and Dean stuck the fourth cheeseburger from the bag between Castiel's lips. Castiel surrendered for the moment, closing his eyes and eating as fast as he could, reveling in the taste and the feeling of fullness. And that other feeling, the one that he didn't recognize but that Dean had somehow awoken in him. Dean was rubbing again now, and the feeling was getting more intense.

"Dean?"

Castiel's eyes snapped open, and he peered around Dean, still chewing his mouthful of - was it the fifth burger, now? Sam, looking haggard and sweaty, was leaning out of the bathroom, tiredly looking for his brother.

"Dean, I think - " He found him. His hazel eyes widened to the point where Castiel was half-amazed that they remained in their sockets. He hastily moved back so that he was mostly blocked by Dean - just in time to be fed another bite. "Uh...what are you doing?"

Dean dropped the burger's wrapper, now empty, and turned to look at Sam. As soon as he saw him, Castiel felt the hunger inside of him sharpen exponentially. And he understood. Love, ingrained over a lifetime and over a year. The urge to protect and care for and make happy. That was what Dean's hunger was made up of, and Castiel couldn't say that he was surprised. Dean had always seemed as if he had settled into the role of Sam's caretaker long ago, giving him whatever he needed even if he didn't want it. And as for himself...well, he expected to be abandoned now that Sam was present. But he was sure that Dean was simply trying, again, to give him what he needed, as he fed him.

"Come here," Dean commanded, his voice a throaty purr that made something like miniature lightning spark between Castiel's primaries. He stretched out a hand to Sam and beckoned, his other one still cupping the bulge of belly that he'd been filling. Sam swayed slightly on his feet, but made no move to approach Dean.

"Are you... _feeding_ him?" Sam squinted at the two of them, looking incredulous.

"He's hungry," Dean casually defended himself, shrugging. "Be a big help if you came over and fed him, too."

"I..."

"Famine," Castiel supplied, unconsciously moving his waist to rub himself into Dean's hand. He wanted contact, attention, and was sure that Dean's desires were exactly the same. "He's been affected. Just as you and I have."

"C'mon, I have not," Dean complained, letting go of Castiel and striding purposefully towards Sam. Castiel was completely unable to stop himself from pushing off of the wall with his wings and following after him, bag of cheeseburgers cradled in his arms and everything that he'd eaten sloshing in his vessel's stomach. He was beginning to suspect that Famine's hold on Dean went deep enough to convince him that nothing was wrong. Either that, or he was too scared of what was going on to admit it. "We'll go unplug Famine. Just...give me a minute, will you?"

Castiel was chewing on another burger, incapable of remembering taking it out of the bag or unwrapping it, when Dean reached Sam. He skirted them as the older brother pulled the younger closer, sitting down on the bed once again and lifting his wings so that the primaries wouldn't be painfully bent. He didn't want to interrupt this. And he wouldn't, just so long as Sam and Dean refrained from taking bites out of each other. Which that first unfortunate couple had been unable to do.

Sam's eyes were half-lidded, lips parted in a shallow pant, torso resting against that of his older brother. He was drawing strength from their closeness, Castiel assumed, even though his craving was not for intimacy with Dean.

"His hunger is for the two of us," Castiel explained to Sam, through a large mouthful of fast food. He felt that he should go in forearmed. He had no desire to watch Dean rape Sam. "We are the two people he loves most, and Famine's presence has inflamed that."

Dean muttered something that sounded vaguely contradictory. One of his hands had been resting in the small of Sam's back, but it slowly trailed up his spine, until it was tangled in his thick, soft hair. He guided Sam's head back from where his chin had been haphazardly settled on his shoulder, tilted his own head so that their noses wouldn't collide, and pressed his mouth to Sam's. Castiel bit into another burger.

Sam tolerated the kiss for exactly three seconds, and Castiel was certain that at least two of those were due to shock. Then he jerked back, wresting himself free of Dean's embrace, and pressed his back firmly against the nearest wall. Limbs spread wide and chest heaving, he stared at his brother in outright stupefaction.

"No," he gasped out, voice rough and strained. He shook his head, and the movement made his sweat-damp hair bounce comically. "I may not be doing so hot right now, Dean, but I know that that's not - "

"Not what?" Dean interrupted. He'd followed Sam, and with every inhale, Castiel could see that his chest bumped solidly against Sam's. Dean seemed more amused by Sam's retreat than angry, even though his hunger was burning white-hot inside of him. "Sammy..." Castiel was on his last burger, wings flared and fluttering in panic that made no sense, as Dean caressed the side of his younger brother's trembling jaw. "Don't tell me you've never even...thought about this." He brushed his lips against the solid point that the tip of Sam's nose came to. "Us." Castiel licked discreetly at the empty wrapper. "We sleep in the same room, spend ninety percent of our time together, do everything that we can to keep each other safe...what does that sound like to you?"

Sam's eyes had slipped closed when Castiel wasn't looking, twitching energetically beneath their lids. After taking a breath deep enough to fill his lungs completely, he reached up and took hold of Dean's hand, where it was still touching his face.

"Dean," he began, speaking with great effort and purpose, "you don't want this. Not really. You can't."

Castiel dropped his wrapper, no clean of any greasy flavor it may once have possessed, back into the bag that it'd come from. "I'm afraid that you won't be able to reason with him, Sam."

"But - " Dean was nuzzling into Sam's neck. As his brother trailed off into a small, guilty moan, he growled, "Give it a rest with the Famine thing, would you, Cas?"

"I apologize," Castiel said matter-of-factly. It seemed like the correct thing to do, under the circumstances. He continued as he rummaged through his bag, searching vainly for another burger out of the hope that he'd missed just one. "Sam...this is nothing more than Dean's love for you. His desires have simply been magnified, shaped, accelerated. Made into something that he can act upon. Just as mi - my vessel's have." His vessel's stomach wasn't stuffed with grease and fat, bulging against his clothing, because Castiel himself wanted them that way. "Just as yours have."

He wasn't sure just how much of that Dean had actually heard. One hand was still held immobile by Sam's, but the other crept up in order to tenderly play with his hair. Castiel might as well have not been in the room at all as he murmured, "What're you hungry for, little brother? What's making you shake like that?"

His voice was gentle. As if he were speaking to his child, or his lover. Given the nature of their relationship, Dean probably unconsciously considered Sam both; intrigued, Castiel leaned forward, temporarily forgetting his own hunger in favor of studying Dean's.

Sam's eyes had been closed lightly before, but now they were clenched shut. He gritted his teeth and turned his face away from Dean, tightly squeezing his hand. The muscles and veins of his neck stood out in obvious pain, stark and corded.

"I..." he managed, before trailing off. "It's..." He turned back to Dean and slowly opened his eyes. They were hazel, of course, and liquid, and ashamed. "You know."

Dean didn't say anything, just kept stroking Sam's hair and holding his hand (because, somehow, the position there had been reversed). Sam groaned in frustration and some internal agony. Grimacing, he looked down at his free hand as he absentmindedly tangled it up in the loose fabric of Dean's shirt.

"It - it's eating me up, Dean," he admitted, voice so low that, had he not been an angel, Castiel wouldn't have been able to hear it from where he was. "I can't focus, I feel sick...the blood's all I can think about. This's screwing with me. I don't..."

"'S okay," Dean soothed, as Sam slowly trailed off. "It's okay, Sammy. I've got you." As Dean kissed Sam's temple, Castiel reflected that he probably understood exactly what he was going through. Even if he didn't know, or couldn't admit it, at the moment. "Gonna get past this, okay? You're not gonna have to do anything you don't want to. You're not gonna relapse. I promise."

Sam groaned again, but it sounded decidedly different this time. He let go of Dean's hand in order to cup the back of his head, tugging gently at the short hair there, and scratching with fingernails Castiel knew were clipped short and blunt. Sam had begun to pant, and something very similar to a whimper slipped out of him as Castiel listened.

"D-distract me," he told Dean. His head was positioned in such a way that his full lips were brushing against those of his brother as he spoke. Castiel wondered if that was intentional, then decided that it probably was. "Please." He was pleading, begging, really, and that spoke volumes to Castiel about just how deep his need went. Sam speaking like this to Dean was a very rare occurrence. "Don't let me...I don't even wanna think about it."

"Hey, hey, Sammy..." Dean ran his fingers through Sam's hair. From the tone of his voice, Castiel deduced that he was smiling gently at him. "Don't worry. That's not gonna happen." He locked his mouth to Sam's in a second, much-longer kiss, and this time, Sam didn't pull away. Castiel found himself utterly captivated by the way that their bodies moved against each other. Warm and fluid, subtle rolling motions and light touches. He was curious as to what actual intercourse between the two of them would look like. "We can keep you distracted...right, Cas?"

Castiel blinked, shocked that he was still being included. He was hardly family to Dean; definitely not in the same way that Sam was. But maybe they had become closer than he realized. Interesting.

"Dean," he began, intending on offering to leave in order to give the two brothers time alone with each other (temporarily sating the hunger might give them the small window of time that they needed to remove Famine). Unconsciously, he raised his empty bag as he spoke.

"Look at that...all gone." Dean was holding Sam against himself, giving his full attention to nuzzling and kissing and touching between each word that he said to Castiel. Sam seemed to be throwing himself into this, and given what Famine's touch had made him hungry for, Castiel couldn't blame him. "You're still hungry, aren't you?" Dean was slowly guiding Sam towards the bed that Castiel was sitting on, promptly answering ever single one of his needy whimpers with a kiss or a murmured word of encouragement.

"I..." He knew that his vessel's own hunger wouldn't abate, not completely, until Famine was powerless. He couldn't bring himself to answer, though, and so instead he just lowered his head, wings drooping against the covers of the bed. However, that seemed to be all the answer that Dean needed.

"Summon more." The brothers were standing directly in front of him now, unmistakably together. Castiel could all but taste Sam's arousal, and his affection for Dean. Somehow, his wild, clawing hunger had dimmed within him, and it made Castiel wonder if a distraction was truly the best option here. But...

"Dean." He would try one last time to make him see reason. Pertaining to Castiel, at least.

"Just do it, Cas," Dean told him, and Castiel felt a hand on his head, stroking and rubbing. "I'm gonna take care of the two of you." He glanced up at Sam, as his hand dropped to the slightly-swollen belly of Castiel's vessel and made his wings spread in pleasure he knew was misguided. "Don't you think I can do that?"

Castiel swallowed. He was an angel of the Lord - a seraph. A soldier. He shouldn't be participating in this. But though his wings were spread, he couldn't quite get them to flap, and the paper bag in his hands filled back up with cheeseburgers before he even got a chance to think about what he was doing.

Maybe his vessel was desperate to be fed, as well as to eat.

Maybe Castiel himself was simply desperate for the attention of his hunters, and didn't care all what form it came in.

He shoved that thought violently out of his mind as Dean guided on unwrapped burger into his willing mouth, murmuring encouragement to both him and Sam. He seemed to know exactly what to do with the two of them, giving them perfectly-equal amounts of attention, nudging Castiel back into a supine position on the bed and keeping Sam right by his side. Head settled into pillows and two separate hands on his vessel's stomach, rubbing, Castiel wondered if that was Famine's influence, as well. Or if Dean had run over a scenario similar to this one so many times that his unnatural hunger was easily able to latch onto it.

The Winchesters kissed above Castiel, one kneeling on either side of him. Dean had a hand clasped gently over his mouth as he chewed his latest burger, probably to prevent him from spitting, even though he never would. He swallowed, Dean took the hand away, he cupped Sam's jaw with it as he broke their kiss.

"Okay?" he murmured to him, real concern woven into the omnipresent hunger in his voice. Castiel tipped his head back, groaning, and slipped a hand down to his middle, right between Sam and Dean's. He was stuffed so full that his shirt was coming untucked, despite its looseness. There were three more burgers in him now, courtesy of Dean. The sensation was more alien than anything else he'd ever come across.

"Better," Sam breathed out, in response to Dean's question. Castiel wasn't so full that he'd lost interest in the brothers' courtship, so he looked up at them just in time to see Sam rest his forehead against Dean's, eyes closed. "I just...I need to focus on you, I guess. You and Cas."

"Exactly, baby brother." Dean pulled Sam into another kiss. This was the most intimate contact yet, and Castiel felt embarrassed after a few seconds, as if he should look away and give them this private moment with each other. But considering close they were to him when Dean's tongue obviously entered Sam's mouth, he supposed that he had a right to feel as if he were part of this. "Told you that we were gonna get past this."

A thin string of saliva connected their soft, pink mouths even after they had separated again, and Castiel examined it with fascination until it broke. At approximately the same moment, his vessel's stomach growled. Dean's attention (or a large part of it, anyway) was transferred immediately to him, and he smirked.

"Guess we've kinda been neglecting you, Cas...sorry." His hand rubbed at him affectionately, and though Castiel had been planning on responding, it was all lost in a breathless, pleasured whine. The more he ate, the more sensitive that particular area of his borrowed body seemed to get. "Gotta feed our guardian angel."

That had never been Castiel's designation, even before his multiple acts of rebellion against Heaven. But he couldn't argue, since his mouth was suddenly full again, and the burger that Dean was feeding him in bits and pieces tasted...well, divine. Even with the risk of being blasphemous, there was simply no other way to describe it.

"Go on, Sammy..." Castiel's eyes were closed in pure, meat-related bliss, but he could still hear the crinkle of parchment paper as a wrapped burger changed hands. "Feed him. You won't believe how greedy our little Cas is."

Castiel blushed slightly (internally, of course; externally, all of his feathers were ruffled with delight) at the use of the label "little." Just because his vessel was slightly smaller than Sam and Dean's mortal bodies? In his true, angelic form, he would positively tower over them...but there would be time to set them straight later. At the moment, he had more pressing matters to address. He opened his mouth wide for the next burger, having given in to his hunger temporarily, but Sam appeared to be hesitating.

"Dean..." Castiel closed his mouth, slowly opened his eyes, and saw that Sam was speaking into his brother's neck as they held each other. Foreplay. Courtship. Whatever one wanted to call it, Castiel saw all of this physical contact for exactly what it was: a prelude to true coupling. "He...he's eaten a lot. Are you sure he won't...?"

"Cas," Dean said, voice clear and making it obvious that he was annoyed by the interruption. "Are you gonna puke?"

"No," Castiel replied. Frankly, he was a little offended by the question. He was an angel. He didn't excrete waste of any kind, even when ensconced within a human vessel.

"Are you gonna pop?" This question, Dean asked with slight amusement. Castiel assumed that he was simply humoring Sam.

"No." The human stomach was an amazingly elastic organ, as was human skin. The presence of Castiel's grace would only enhance that effect, despite how sluggish it currently was. Technically, Castiel could probably eat until his vessel's belly was too full and heavy for him to stand, and nothing would burst or even tear.

Dean pressed a kiss to Sam's forehead, ruffling his hair with the hand that wasn't resting on the rounded bulge of Castiel's midsection. He pulled back when he was done, smiling right into Sam's half-lidded, arousal-bright eyes.

"See?" he asked him, tone reassuring. "We're not gonna have any problems at all. So, you feed..." He patted the bulge. Castiel squirmed, and blinked rapidly as he felt something very strange began to happen between his legs. "...and I'll keep an eye on this. Just in case."

There was no pain, even as Castiel got fuller and fuller. Of course there wasn't. The list of things that could make him feel pain was relatively short: holy oil, holy blades, banishing runes, angelic exorcisms. There was pressure, yes, a sensation of being bloated and swollen and having consumed too much, but no discomfort.

As Sam fed him, often running his fingers through the hair of his vessel or leaning down to plant a hesitant, chaste kiss on his temple or forehead (displays of affection that Castiel grudgingly welcomed), he wondered how much of the absence of pain was due to what he was...and how much was due to Dean. He was giving his vessel's stomach special attention, when he wasn't kissing or murmuring to Sam in order to keep his focus on the two of them and not his own, much-darker hunger. He rubbed gently through the crisp cotton of Castiel's button up, kneading into the overstretched flesh with the heels of his hands. Really, it was more like he was massaging. Palms, fingertips...he used every inch of his broad, callus-covered hands to the best of his ability.

Castiel moaned through bite after bite of cheeseburger. And burped, soft, and embarrassed; Dean's movements had the added benefit of forcing excess air out of him.

"Gonna pop a couple of buttons soon, if he keeps going like this," Dean commented huskily after awhile. Castiel hadn't been tracking the exact passage of time. He was experiencing too much pleasure, most of it completely new, to care about something like that. There was something swelling slowly between his legs, jolted and encouraged by Sam's kisses and Dean's touches, and he thought that he might like it. He watched through half-closed eyes, panting softly, as Dean leaned toward Sam. Sam met him halfway, in a kiss that struck Castiel as gentle and, somehow, sweet. There was no hunger behind Sam's kiss. Not the unnatural sort, at least. "What d'you think?"

"Think he's pretty much bottomless," Sam murmured back. He'd temporarily abandoned feeding Castiel in favor of stroking Dean's close-cropped hair with both hands, and Castiel barely bit back a whimper of need. Famine's influence was running deeper and deeper in him with every moment that passed, and he wished that he cared. "Not sure what else you expected, Dean. I mean, Cas _is_ an angel..."

" _Our_ angel," Dean corrected, kissing Sam again. His hands had momentarily stilled on Jimmy Novak's stomach, and Castiel's coverts twitched in annoyance. "Yours and mine. Just like you're _my_ little brother."

Sam purred. Actually purred, making a low, rumbling noise of pleasure deep in his chest, and Castiel blinked up at him. He'd never heard him make such a noise before - actually, he'd never heard any human make such a noise before. Dean pleased Sam to an extent that, frankly, shocked Castiel.

Dean patted Sam's cheek, smiling gently, then glanced down at Castiel. "C'mon...let's get back to him. We've barely even started." Castiel sighed with relief, a growl of near-insatiable hunger vibrating through him.

Sam went back to feeding, with a steady stream of encouragement from Dean. Dean himself was rubbing that grease-fed swell again. Castiel panted and groaned between each and every greedy bite, fullness and that strange, aching pleasure playing with his mind and his grace. He was aware that his shirt had slipped completely out of the waistband of his slacks, leaving a thin strip of pale skin exposed. He was also aware that said waistband (and the belt looped through it) was digging into him more and more every time that he swallowed. It didn't hurt, so he didn't spare much attention for it.

And the fabric of his slacks was no stretched taut across his groin area. Dean, enamored with Sam and the well-fed belly of Castiel's vessel, didn't notice at first, but Castiel had been with him long enough to know that those green eyes missed little to nothing. Sure enough, Dean made a loud noise of exclamation several minutes later.

"Hey, Sammy..." His hand stilled, resting on the apex of Castiel's - no, _Jimmy's_ stomach; these urges and their source did not belong to Castiel. "Come take a look at this."

Sam diligently filled Castiel's mouth again before leaning over. Perhaps he'd taken his brother's instructions to heart; perhaps he understood what the angel beneath him needed so desperately. Either way, Castiel was grateful.

"Oh," Sam said, after a slight pause. He sounded surprised. "He's..." He trailed off. "I didn't know that could happen."

Dean laughed. "Well, he's a dude, isn't he?" Castiel, curious as to what was going on, raised his head, but Dean leaned over and pushed it back down with two fingers. "Nah, piglet, don't get up. We've got everything under control."

Castiel's brow creased. "Piglet?" That seemed an odd pet name...he was aware that the culture used terms for baby animals as terms of endearment (kitten, chick), but he had never before heard "piglet." Pigs were unclean animals, spiritually and physically. Perhaps that was what Dean was implying about him...Castiel felt himself begin to blush.

"What's going on?" he asked, to buy himself time to calm down.

He heard the grin in Dean's voice as he announced, "You've got a hard-on, Cas," at roughly the same moment that Sam stated, "You're aroused." Castiel was easily able to discern both voices, and he blinked up at the ceiling, bewildered.

"That's impossible," he said. Something inside of him gurgled pleasantly.

"Obviously not." Dean rubbed his vessel's taut belly with one hand, and palmed the bulge at his groin with the other. Castiel jerked and gasped, surprised by its sensitivity.

"You like this, don't you?" Sam asked. He had another cheeseburger at the ready, and Castiel obediently opened his mouth. This was the last one, he thought. He'd have to summon more once he was done with it. "The two of us feeding you?"

"Famine - " Castiel began with a full mouth, then cried out as a finger was jabbed into the swollen flesh at his middle. _That_ hurt.

"Dean!" Sam's voice was angry and heavily disapproving. From the sounds of things when he answered, Dean didn't care much at all.

"I'm sick of him talking about Famine," Dean said matter-of-factly. He was rubbing again, soothing, and it was slow and gentle. As if he were apologizing for the earlier poke...which, now that Castiel thought about it, really hadn't been all that hard. He just hadn't been expecting it. "Jesus Christ, Cas. Just admit that you like it - it's not the end of the world if you do. I mean, hell, we like it...we like it a lot."

Castiel swallowed, and turned his head to look up at Sam. He was gently stroking his hair, cupping the back of Castiel's head with one large hand, but his eyes were on Dean.

"Rustle up some more burgers, Cas." Dean played with one of the buttons on Castiel's shirt. One of the buttons that was currently straining to contain his vessel's brand-new girth. "We want you bigger."

Castiel's feathers twitched, and three bags appeared. All full to bursting, stuffed with cheeseburgers. Just like the stomach that Dean was currently rubbing. He smirked at the irony. Then quickly opened his mouth so that Sam could fold a piece of burger into it.

"Y'know, Cas, gluttony's a sin..." Dean's tone of voice was teasing. He had one hand on either side of Castiel's vessel's stomach, as if feeling out the size and shape. Castiel wished that he would just go back to rubbing.

"So is lust," he muttered, looking up at Sam with eyes that he knew for a fact would be glazed with pleasure. He swallowed, opened his mouth for more, and didn't miss the tiny smirk that flickered across Sam's lips. He was enjoying this, just like Dean was. Just like Castiel was.

Dean chuckled softly. "Yeah...but me and Sam aren't angels." He paused for a few moments, before asking, "Will this make your vessel gain weight?"

"No." Castiel swallowed. He was nuzzling against the hand that Sam had on his head, he suddenly realized. Pushing harder every time that he put something in his mouth. Was he an angel or a pet? "My grace will burn through it eventually."

Wouldn't it?

"Well, that's a damn shame," Dean commented. Castiel blinked and made a small, birdlike sound of surprise as he moved into a new position, straddling his thighs and giving himself better access to the warm, swollen roundness of his vessel's belly. "I was kinda looking forward to having you chubby after this whole thing blows over..." His voice was husky, but also, somehow, honeyed. "Hey...think about that, Sammy..." He finished the sentence off with a passionate kiss planted on his younger brother's willing mouth. "Our very own cherub. Soft and squishy and fun to cuddle with."

Castiel would have contested, quite hotly, that he couldn't spontaneously change breeds no matter how much they fed him. He was a seraph, and would remain one even if Sam and Dean fattened his vessel until his clothes no longer had any hope of fitting. But it was simply easier to eat than it was to speak. To arch his back so that his vessel's belly was forced more firmly into Dean's hands...to make soft sounds of pleasure and budding affection as Sam fed him. He gave into his hunger completely, as the Winchesters had done. They didn't seem to be suffering any ill effects.

It was quite some time (and two bags of burgers) later that Castiel heard a ripping sound, a popping noise, and a distant _ping_ , and then felt relief from at least a little bit of the pressure on his vessel's gut. He opened his eyes and raised his head, frowning in confusion. Dean snickered.

"What...?" Sam had an unwrapped cheeseburger in his hand, the first from the third bag that Castiel had summoned, but he hesitated before feeding it to him. Castiel's hunger surged and battered within him, and he did his best to ignore it.

"He popped a button." Dean sounded proud, and Castiel could feel him fumbling with the buckle of his belt, and then the button of his slacks. When he'd gotten both of them open, there was more relief, and Castiel groaned with it.

"Lemme see." Sam seemed incredibly interested, shoving the burger into Castiel's mouth and then scooting down to kneel beside his pelvis. Castiel wondered how much of that interest was genuine, and how much was because he wanted any distraction possible to keep his mind off of his craving for demon blood.

Dean was now undoing the buttons on Castiel's shirt, and he was feeling better with every single one that he slipped back through its eye. Less confined. When Dean rucked it up so that his middle was completely exposed, Castiel gasped out a, "Thank you."

"I'd say we fed him pretty well," Dean commented, the smirk he was wearing made obvious by his tone of voice.

"You think?" Sam sounded different, much more affectionate, and Castiel gasped softly as full, warm lips pressed against his skin. Sam was kissing him right above his vessel's navel.

Dean chuckled softly, and Castiel heard a silky, minute sound that had to be him ruffling Sam's hair. "We're gonna do plenty with this belly, Sammy. Don't worry. Here, you feed him the rest..." Dean leaned to the side in order to pick up the third bag of burgers. The movement jostled the stomach of Castiel's vessel, and he groaned, feeling his fullness shift inside of him. Dean patted him sympathetically as he handed the bag to Sam. "Definitely can't hurt. I'll get him undressed."

Castiel blinked, as Dean moved from his thighs and then began to slip his trench coat off of him. He didn't understand. Rolling his head to the side, he stared up at Dean, a little frustrated when he had to burp before he could speak.

"Undressed?" he asked uncertainly, moving his shoulders to help Dean in his task. He was being shockingly gentle about it. Castiel's wings, immaterial as they were, fluttered with odd excitement, but didn't interfere with the removal of his coat, or his suit jacket.

Dean chuckled again. "Relax, Cas. We're taking good care of you, aren't we?" Castiel couldn't answer. Sam had gone back to feeding him, and he was stroking his hair and temples as he did so in a massively-soothing gesture. "This is how it's supposed to be."

The rock-solid assurance that Castiel could make out behind Dean's soft tone worried him somewhat, but he couldn't voice his concerns with his mouth full of a burger that was sinfully delicious. He closed his eyes and swallowed, pushing his head back into Sam's hand as he moaned with hedonistic delight. His button down was removed, and then he felt fingers deftly working at his slacks.

They were unzipped soon. One of Dean's hands found its way in through the new opening (which had given Castiel and his vessel's swelling stomach such relief), palm cupping his throbbing, aching genitalia through nothing more than the thin cotton of his boxers. The other ghosted over his vessel's full belly, which Sam was still feeding. Castiel whined through a mouthful of beef and white bread at the combined sensations. Then Dean suddenly squeezed his groin...and dug the fingertips of his other hand into his bloated flesh...Castiel's body bucked in pleasure, and...

_Pop._

There was a soft popping noise as Castiel's pleasure and arousal both reached new levels, then a gentle rustling of feathers. Sam murmured an awed, "Jesus..." and Dean's movements stilled on Castiel's belly.

"What - " he began, and Castiel could tell that he was frowning. But then he fell silent before uttering, "Oh. Wow..."

His wings had manifested, because of the strong sensations that were currently pounding through him. They were slightly folded, the bright white feathers splotched with black. He was a little surprised by that; it had been a long time since he'd seen his own wings, and the black had never been there before.

The primaries of one wing came up to rest against Sam's thighs, where he was kneeling next to Castiel. The other was spread out over the bed, and that was the one that Dean leaned forward in order to stroke, burying a hand in the soft, downy feathers that covered the underside of Castiel's wings. Castiel gasped. Apparently, this part of him was sensitive, too.

"What brought this on?" Dean asked, grinning incredulously down at Castiel. Castiel just swallowed and shook his head, then gasped again when Sam gently moved the wing that had been in his lap.

"Sorry," Sam apologized. His voice was just as soft as his touches had been, throughout this whole thing. "Pretty sure that I just got grease all over your feathers."

Dean laughed. "He can lick it off later. Right now...this just gives us something else to play with." Taking his hand off of Castiel's wing, Dean moved back down to his slacks, beginning to pull them off. "Keep feeding, Sammy. Almost done."

Castiel raised a wing when Sam reached for one of the last two cheeseburgers (the wing that Sam had touched - several of his feathers were matted together with grease, and he was lapping contentedly at them almost as soon as he saw them), shielding his mouth with it. He shook his head as Dean removed his shoes, socks, and pants.

"I'm too full," he protested, reaching down in order to cradle his vessel's rotund belly. As soon as he was finished speaking, he hiccuped, making both his feathers and his torso shake. "I've eaten too much...look." Castiel raised his head as he indicated the skin near the navel. It had gone a delicate pink, but he was completely unsure if that was because the skin was stretched and strained, or if because he was simply flushed from arousal. He definitely didn't feel any pain. Or even discomfort, for that matter.

He felt Dean shift where he was perched at the foot of the mattress, and predicted that he was about to order Sam to keep going, but there was no need for him to. Sam guided Castiel's wing away from his mouth, plucked a loose feather off of where it had gotten stuck to his stubble, and offered the unwrapped burger to him. Castiel ate willingly, and felt something very much like a purr rumble up from inside of him as Sam began to stroke his hair again. It seemed that they had something in common.

"You're not full," Sam pointed out with an amused smirk as he fed him. Castiel squirmed when his boxers were pulled down past his hips and his arousal was bared, wings twitching uncomfortably, but kept eating. His vessel's belly gurgled in what could have been encouragement just as easily as it could have been protest. "Can you even get full?"

"We can test that later." Dean moved back up, so that he was crouching beside the completely-naked Castiel. He patted his hip - the bones were still prominent there, despite his vessel's ridiculously-large stomach. "C'mon, Cas. Hands and knees. If you can manage that, we'll give you the last burger as a treat."

Castiel was confused as to why Dean wanted him in that position, as well as to why he thought that it would be difficult for him to get into it. He moved his wings slightly, pulling them out of the way so that he could prop himself up with his elbows. He stifled yet another burp with the primaries of one wing as he did so.

Sam reached for him, probably intending to help him up, but Dean shook his head. "No, Sammy, he's gotta do it on his own." Dean gave his vessel's belly an affectionate pat. "He gorged himself stupid. Let him deal with it." His voice was amused, though. No trace of sadism in it at all.

Castiel rolled his eyes (a gesture that he'd picked up from his hunters), and slowly rolled himself over, grunting with the sheer effort of it. He was forced to go slowly. He was stronger than any human could ever hope to be, but not, it appeared, when it came to things inside of his own body. He used his wings when he could, groaning and whining, and shivered as he felt the contents of his - of his _vessel's_ belly slosh.

Once he was finally on all fours, he was panting with exertion, belly shaking pleasingly with every heave of his chest. He was swaybacked, spine curving inwards because of the weight of everything he'd eaten, and his knees were planted wide in the soft mattress in order to better bear the load. Folding his wings against his back, Castiel curiously looked at where his vessel's stomach dangled beneath him. Full. Round. Taut. It almost looked as if he were pregnant.

A hand on the back of his neck made him raise his head, and then Sam was feeding him the last burger while Dean treated him to a slow, thorough belly rub. When he was done, sucking grease from Sam's fingers, he felt Dean move to kneel behind him.

"Back against the pillows, Sam," he instructed, voice husky and soft. "Get your jeans open...I'll give you what you really deserve later, baby boy, but for right now, I don't want you left outta this."

Castiel blinked at the area between Sam's legs, after he had murmured some kind of cautious assent and moved so that he was right in front of him. It seemed that he was aroused, too. Castiel glanced back, past his wings and to Dean, and said, "You want me to perform oral sex on him."

"Gold star, Cas." Dean patted his behind, and Castiel bit his lower lip. "Take him...while you're taking me. Make him feel real good. He fed this greedy little belly up so perfectly, after all..." He gave the stomach of Castiel's vessel a little push, making it jiggle.

"Dean, this isn't a good idea," Castiel said gravely. One of Sam's large hands settled onto the back of his head, and he obediently lowered himself to his elbows as he was gently guided downwards. Sam murmured out encouragement - and an embarrassed apology - before slowly beginning to undo the button of his jeans.

"Why not?" Dean dragged the very tips of his fingernails over the small of Castiel's back, where it was bowing down because of his vessel's overstuffed belly, and made him shiver with involuntary pleasure. Angels (even one as rebellious as Castiel) were subservient creatures by nature, eager to please and excited to be commanded. Because of Famine's unfortunate influence, Castiel's loyalty currently lay with those who had met his needs. Who had fed him. "Are we gonna get struck by lightning or something?"

"No..." Castiel didn't think so, at least. As far as he knew, mating with an angel carried no such consequences. Not even _this_ kind of mating. "It's just..." he sighed deeply. Sam, tugging his jeans down around his well-muscled thighs, offered him a look of concern. "Dean, I have no experience at all with...the intimate arts."

There was a beat of silence, and then Castiel heard a momentary burst of laughter. A blush that he couldn't control burned its way onto his face, and he dropped his head in embarrassment, even as Dean began to affectionately rub one of his vessel's rounded flanks.

"'Intimate arts.'" He snickered, then abruptly cut himself off. Dean was familiar enough with the relationship that the two brothers had to know that Sam had probably just shot a glare at Dean. "I know, Cas. We both know. And it's okay."

Castiel felt a strange sensation on one of his folded wings, on the primary feathers. It took him a moment to identify it. Lips, brushing against him in a tender kiss.

"We're gonna teach you," Dean promised, and Castiel felt breath puffing, hot and strong, against his feathers with every word. "We're gonna take care of you."

That seemed to be a favorite phrase of Dean's, all of a sudden. Perhaps that was entirely what this was - just a perversion of his naturally-strong desire to protect those that he loved, instead of a mixture of things. Castiel closed his eyes and shifted his wings, intentionally rubbing one along the strong line of Dean's jaw. Sex was a conveyance of love. He would do his best to perform well.

"Dean, be gentle," Sam instructed, voice low and soft even though they hadn't begun yet. Castiel heard denim and metal moving as Dean unzipped his jeans. He laughed a little, yet again.

"Afraid he'll bite it off if I thrust too hard, Sammy?" he teased above Castiel, grinning. Sam huffed.

"No - well, okay, _yes_ , but I'm a lot more worried about you...hurting him." By the way that Sam sounded when he said this, Castiel inferred that he didn't think that his brother would do anything like that on purpose. He was simply afraid of his urges - both natural and Famine-born - getting the best of him. "Actually...maybe I should - "

"No." Dean said it immediately, and very firmly. "If you weren't just about bursting outta your pants over there, Sammy, I wouldn't have him touch you at all - I'd have you wait for me."

Sam shifted, and Castiel could feel his confusion. He reached forward, laying a hand on his denim-covered ankles in order to draw his attention downwards. The younger Winchester had once sarcastically remarked to him that gunshots and rock music had messed up Dean's hearing in a magnificent way, so he kept his voice low, hoping that there had been at least a little bit of truth to that.

"His hunger for you is much greater than his hunger for me, Sam," Castiel said, as Sam blinked down at him. "You are _his_ so much more completely than I'll ever be...he's possessive. He wants you closer to _him_ in every possible way, not me."

Dean moved a little, probably wondering what Castiel was murmuring about, but he must have decided not to pursue it. He gave the stomach of his vessel a light tap, and asked, "Think you can get us some lube, Cas?"

Castiel summoned, with a light spreading of his wings. He knew what was wanted of him, having picking up the information in one place or another, and was rewarded with a purred, "Good boy," when he handed the slim black bottle back to Dean. The praise had him blushing yet again.

He gasped when two wet, cold finger were placed against his...well, a very personal part of him. They began to work at that part as Dean's other hand reached beneath him, alternating between touching his solid arousal (which, strangely enough, had begun to...leak) and touching his vessel's junk food-laden belly. His heart thudded monstrously in his chest, sending pulses to his slowly-spreading wings, and he raised his head to see that the shafts of the white feathers had gone pink with freshly-oxygenated blood. Castiel cried out softly from the sudden pleasure that came from being touched like he was, and raised his pelvis even higher as he pushed back onto Dean's hands. Both of them.

A soft chuckle came from the hunter, as well as a husky, smug, "You're no angel."

Castiel shuddered when he felt fingers on one of his wings, stroking and feeling his feathers as they stiffened from the sudden influx of blood. Sam's voice was a fascinated murmur that he simply couldn't focus on at the moment, talking about wings and erogenous zones and Lord-only-knew what else. Castiel could feel his hunger as a banked fire within his abdomen. It was still there, still smoldering, but the distraction that he and Dean had provided had calmed the raging flames. That was why Sam could examine his wings with such a clear head.

One of Dean's fingers popped inside of Castiel. The feeling was incredibly unfamiliar, and a little uncomfortable, but arousing nonetheless. He growled, and his wings gave a small flutter. He felt his vessel's belly sway below him.

"What're you waiting for, Sammy?" Dean's voice was a purr, thick with his own arousal. Castiel swallowed. "Go ahead'n...feed him."

There was a soft intake of breath as Sam pushed himself up onto his knees and pulled his boxers slowly down, and Castiel couldn't tell if it was a gasp of excitement or reluctance. Either way, he lifted himself as the younger of the two brothers rose, staying with him. He tilted his head to the side when Sam pulled himself free.

"You're very well-endowed," he murmured, impressed despite himself. He knew what the average size of reproductive organs in Caucasian males was, and Sam most definitely surpassed it. His throat tensed reflexively.

"Of course he is." The finger had gone deeper, probing at the hot softness all around it, and the sensation was making Castiel squirm and pant. He wished it wouldn't; with his vessel's stomach in the state that it was, movement was uncomfortable. "He's my brother, ain't he?" The smooth, neat skin above the mat of Sam's pubic hair went a delicate pink, and Castiel realized that he was probably blushing. He just...wasn't looking at his face.

A hand slipped down onto the back of Castiel's head, guiding him forward at a pace that he was actually quite comfortable with. The other slipped beneath Sam's member, maneuvering it until it was very easy for Castiel to part his lips and take the tip of the swollen head into his mouth. He did it obediently, and without a single thought for how inappropriate it was for an angel of the Lord to have a human's cock in his mouth. He heard Sam gasp again, pleasured and surprised, and felt his fingernails dig into the sensitive skin of his scalp even as Dean's finger delved deeper and a second one sought to join it inside of him. The combined pleasure made his wings shake.

Castiel raised his eyes, a striking blue even when his grace wasn't blazing behind them, to Sam's face. He wanted to see his reaction to what he'd done so far. When he saw him, though, Sam's mouth just dropped open slightly, then he blushed for a second time and turned away. Castiel's eyebrows drew together. Had he done something wrong? Pondering it, he wiggled himself further back onto Dean's fingers, and received an approving pat on the hip.

"A blowjob - that's what oral sex is called on guys - " Castiel was very grateful for Sam's willingness to clarify. There were so many things, right here and now, that he simply didn't understand. " - is pretty easy, Cas. Don't worry." He hadn't been worried, but appreciated the effort to soothe him nonetheless. Especially when Sam began to stroke his hair yet again.

"And just how would you know that, Sammy?" Dean asked, sounding amused. Sam snorted.

"Shut up. You said we'd teach him, so, I'm teaching." One large hand was still on the back of Castiel's head, and the other cupped the side of his jaw. He was bringing him forward again, and Castiel opened his mouth wider as the muscles of his throat flexed involuntarily. "You wanna really try to keep your teeth off of it. Keep your lips tucked down over them, and suck. Just a little." The hands on Castiel tightened, and Sam made a small, blissful sound, as he obeyed his instructions to the letter. "G-good...that's great, Cas."

"Fast learner," Dean noted, in a voice so soft that Castiel doubted Sam heard it at all. "Or maybe our little glutton's just desperate for anything else to eat." He patted his vessel's belly at the same time that he wriggled his fingers inside of him, and Castiel whimpered with need around Sam.

"You don't have to take it all," Sam assured him, as he somehow managed to settle back into a more comfortable position without moving his erection at all inside of Castiel's mouth. "I know I'm...big. Just go slow."

"Yeah, don't choke, Cas," Dean warned, pushing his fingers deeper into him even as he added a third. "Sammy's a monster."

It was more, simply, that he was proportional, Castiel thought to himself as he moved his tongue and suckled gently, as he had done on grease-covered fingers earlier. Sam was a very large man. His genitals corresponded to that size. Though he had never seen Dean completely naked, Castiel was willing to be that his were the same way, since he and Sam were siblings. His musings, however, were interrupted when Dean's probing fingertips brushed against something hot and swollen in his moist depths. Castiel mewled with wide eyes, mouth and throat clamping down on Sam, and his legs shook. His wings snapped out to their full span, and his erection pumped a small spurt of thin liquid against the underside of his vessel's bloated stomach.

Sam had cried out, and was now moaning, both of his hands buried deep in Castiel's short hair. Dean's raspy voice made for quite the contrast when he casually commented, "Think I found his prostate."

Castiel whined through his mouthful of Sam as Dean's fingers withdrew. What had he done to deserve that? He tried lifting his hips even higher, even wiggling them a little to invite those fingers back, but he wasn't touched. Not by Dean, at least. Sam fondled the alula of one of his outstretched wings, which was a pleasurable sensation in and of itself, and breathlessly directed, "Bob your head. Move it. I'd rather not thrust into your mouth - I don't wanna hurt you."

Castiel did as he was instructed, wings drawing in and belly shaking with the movements. He tasted something salty and a little bit bitter as he sucked and bobbed, interested by all the ridges and veins on Sam's member. He was so intent on his task of wringing moan after moan out of the man above him that he barely noticed when hands dropped onto his hips. He definitely noticed, though, when he felt Dean, engorged and erect, teasing at his lubricant-slick opening.

He wanted to cry out with shock and need, but that wasn't much of an option, seeing as his mouth was currently halfway down Sam's length with its head nudging almost playfully at his vessel's uvula. So, instead, he just pushed backwards as much as he could manage, prompting a very pleased chuckle from Dean.

"There's already one cock in you, Cas," he teased, rubbing at the curve of his bottom with one hand and at the curve of his vessel's stomach with the other. "I know you're greedy, but...can you really handle two at a time?"

This time, Castiel managed a whimper, bucking his hips a little bit in some kind of nonverbal begging. He was producing copious amounts of saliva because of his inability to close his mouth, and it had slicked Sam's shaft completely. So that he made obscene slurping noises as he moved his mouth up and down. There must have been something erotic about that, because it made one brother pant, and the other squeezed Castiel's hips a little more tightly.

"Dean..." Sam warned, voice ragged and thin with pure pleasure, "...stop teasing him. Don't you think he's had enough of that?"

"Yeah. He's had more than enough." Dean poked the overstuffed belly of Castiel's vessel, but the teasing came to a swift end.

Castiel had expected pain, but Dean must have done a good job of readying him, because when he was mounted - no, no, "entered" was a much better term. They were apes, after all, not dogs - there was none at all. In fact, there was immediate and knee-weakening pleasure, after a brief period of discomfort. Dean slipped into him in his entirety, impaled him, with a single smooth thrust. Castiel's eyes fluttered closed as he moaned around Sam.

With a Winchester at either end, Castiel was soon shaking with wave after wave of pleasure that could only be sexual. They were startlingly attentive lovers, not that he had expected anything less: Sam continually stroked his hair and his wings as Castiel sucked and lapped at his manhood, and Dean seemed enamored with his vessel's belly, petting and rubbing at it as he gently rocked and out of him.

Sex seemed to be making his mind a little hazy, though. Between the salty, bitterly-pleasant taste of Sam that spread across his tongue as he mouthed curiously at his swollen head, and the sensation of Dean ghosting over the thing that he'd called a "prostate" with every thrust, certain lines were beginning to blur for him. For example, those between himself and his vessel. Jimmy Novak's roaring hunger had abated quite a bit once Sam had guided Castiel's mouth onto his pulsing erection, but Castiel thought of the little ember of it that remained in his gut as _his_ hunger. The mouth and throat that were wrapped around Sam's hard, thick length were _his_ and _his_ alone. It was _his_ overfed stomach that Dean was playing with.

"I...f-fuck..." Sam forced out, voice sounding a little strained. He dragged his fingernails over Castiel's scalp. "...hot..." Castiel wondered if he was speaking literally, about his mouth, or figuratively, about the sight of Dean fucking him from behind. "H-harder, Cas."

Castiel sucked harder, cheeks going hollow, and bobbed his head up and down faster. He felt hot, ragged breath puffing against his stubbled jawline as Dean leaned over his wings in order to murmur into his ear. His hips were still pumping, still sending pleasure crashing through Castiel with every movement that he made inside of him.

"I think he looks kinda close," Dean commented huskily. "Don't you?" Even if Castiel had had some idea as to what "close" meant, he wouldn't have been able to nod. Not with Sam in his mouth; he was getting closer and closer to reaching his base with his lips, and was rather proud of that. "Cas...reach up, and play with his balls. That feels good to him - I've seen him do it while he's jacking off."

By "play with," Castiel assumed that Dean meant "fondle." He raised one hand, cupping Sam's sac (clean-shaven...interesting), and began to roll his testicles gently in his palm. It was easy to do, since they were just as covered with saliva as the rest of his intimate parts. And it made Sam arch the small of his back, pushing himself further into Castiel, and whine something out. It might have been, "Dean."

And by "jerking off," Castiel assumed that Dean meant "masturbating." Because of the implication that, while Sam had been doing this, Dean had been watching him closely enough to see exactly which parts of himself he'd been touching...Castiel was no longer sure that Dean's sexual urges were entirely a Famine-born offshoot of his brotherly love for Sam.

That was why he wasn't very surprised when Sam and Dean showed more interest in each other than in him, even though he was the one that they were both inside of. He didn't mind. So long as Dean was still thrusting into him, giving him pleasure, it was extremely gratifying to feel their hands meet each other in the feathers of his wings. And to know that they were kissing above him, hear them murmuring, breathlessly, back and forth...Castiel couldn't help but think that this was something that had been a long time coming. These two, as lovers.

Dean had been spot-on, in the advice that he'd given him about handling Sam. Castiel looked up at Sam as his hips began to move in a steady rolling motion, his sac seeming to pulse a little in his hand. Placing the tips of his fingers on Castiel's scalp, Sam began to pull himself out of his mouth, but his older brother stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

"What're you doing?" Dean panted it out, still working hard at moving himself inside of Castiel. Castiel was grateful for that. He thought that he might weep if Dean stopped now.

"I'm gonna - I'm gonna come, and I don't wanna - " Sam began, voice thin and shaky with pleasure. Dean interrupted him.

"Go ahead and let him swallow it, Sammy," he instructed, before reaching down and running a tender hand over the shape of Castiel's rounded belly. "All you're doing is feeding him. Bet you anything that he's still hungry."

Castiel wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but he understood that Sam was approaching something because of what he was doing with him. He rubbed what was resting in his hand as sensuously as he could manage (while keeping in mind just how sensitive this particular part of Sam was), and sucked hard as he took his full length for the first time. His vessel's gag reflex welled up, threatening to make him lose what he'd eaten all over Sam's groin area, but he easily pushed it down. He was an angel, after all. And he would not be so ill-behaved as to vomit while performing a blowjob.

Sam reached the "something" as Castiel was bringing his mouth slowly back up. Liquid, hot and salty and strangely metallic, exploded across his tongue, making his cheeks immediately bow out with the sheer amount of it. Even if Dean hadn't put a hand on the back of his head and growled, "Swallow," he probably would have done what he wanted him to. There was no way that he was going to take his mouth off of Sam in order to spit.

As the flow of the thick, musky liquid began to ebb, Castiel went back to sucking. It was only then that he realized that Sam had been shouting. Mostly Dean's name, but he had heard his own a couple of times, and that sent a warm feeling slowly washing through him.

He pulled his mouth off of Sam once he was completely finished, allowing his softening member to drop. He looked up at the younger of the two Winchester brothers, to see him laying limp against the pillows with his skull hanging back over the headboard. His chest was heaving, quiet little moans of contentment coming from him every so often, and Castiel became slowly aware of a sense of satisfaction that came only from a job well done.

Castiel had almost forgotten that Dean was still inside of him. He was reminded with a swift and well-aimed thrust, which got a breathless cry out of him.

"You did such a good job with Sammy, didn't you?" Dean purred. He was fondling his stomach yet again, and Castiel rubbed himself against his hands, moaning. He wanted Dean to feel how good of a job he and his brother had done, taking care of him. "Got him to shoot his load right into your mouth, then swallowed every last drop." He had reveled in that, and was still doing so. Castiel could tell by the tone of his voice. "Never once seen a better-behaved angel." And now he was nuzzling at the place between his wings, even as he played with his belly. Castiel, desperate, whined out his name. "Yeah, yeah, I hear you. You deserve a reward after all that, huh?"

Castiel huffed out a harsh breath of alarm and pleasure as Dean pulled him up, so that he was basically sitting on his lap. Impaled by him. Dean's arms were crossed loosely over his chest, holding him upright, and he felt his strong jaw come to rest on his head as he nuzzled into his hair.

"Gonna give you your first orgasm, Cas," Dean said. Castiel, lips swollen from working on Sam and tongue protruding from between them in an exhausted pant, could hear his grin. "Gonna deflower our angel." He reached down, slowly and affectionately rubbing the swell of Castiel's hip. "Hey. Sammy...how you doing over there?"

At the sound of Dean's gentle question, Sam raised his head and licked his lips. His hair was a completely mess, hanging in tangled ribbons around his face. His pupils were dilated, and a blush stood out starkly, on his prominent cheekbones.

"Fine," he answered after a moment, smiling slowly at Dean and Castiel. "Just a little...wow."

"Talented little cocksuck, isn't he?" Dean replied easily. Castiel's eyes widened, and he blushed twice as hard as Sam was. "C'mere, little brother. You're on belly duty. To make sure that this - " He patted the curve of Castiel's stomach. " - doesn't feel neglected." He shifted a little, sending sparks of pleasure straight to Castiel's engorged manhood. "As soon as we get him off...I've got a few plans for you."

Dean's hand entered Castiel's field of vision, beckoning Sam forward. He came, tugging his jeans and boxers up just enough to lend him the smallest possible degree of modesty, then took Dean's hand. Sam's sculpted abdominal muscles pressed against Castiel's swollen belly as he and Dean kissed softly overhead. Once they parted, their attention shifted almost entirely to Castiel.

Sam's hands roamed expertly over his stomach, pushing and kneading and rolling his wrists whenever he needed. He seemed shockingly experienced with this, especially in the way that he cradled Castiel's belly in both hands whenever Dean bucked up into him. He was intelligent, though, and Castiel knew that. Maybe he just figured out how best to help him all on his own.

Dean, on the other hand, had to have been in this sexual position at least once before. Multiple times was more likely, considering that he knew exactly how to move in order to bring Castiel the most pleasure possible. Correctly inferring that Castiel was much too heavy (and overfed) at the moment to bounce himself up and down on his shaft, Dean had set up a steady, brisk pace of thrusting. Dean lifted himself with his knees and his hands, since Sam had taken over the task of keeping Castiel upright, and his aim was always impeccable.

Castiel had already been extremely aroused, and extremely sensitive, far before Sam and Dean actively went to work on him. First, there had been the sheer intimacy of the feeding, with Dean touching his belly and then, eventually his groin. Then there had been taking Sam's erection into his willing mouth. Then Dean entering him. And now, this.

Needless to say, it didn't take him long at all to hit his own climax.

Castiel screamed as the pleasure that he'd been feeling smashed together into a white-hot peak, not sure, for a moment, just what was going on. Sam was kissing his stomach, Dean had just struck his "prostate." Castiel sobbed out both of their names as his wings spread so wide that the joints began to ache and grace-light poured briefly and dimly from every orifice. The same thick fluid that he'd drawn out of Sam earlier was pumping hotly against the underside of his belly. It seemed like it took an eternity for the unprecedented pleasure to fade away, and when it did, Castiel was exhausted.

He was vaguely aware of being left empty (he whimpered, and the brothers shushed him), and then of being carefully laid down on the mattress, his own fluids drying on his skin. Rough hands carefully stroked his belly, his wings, his hair, and warm mouths pressed against his bare skin. He cooed in soft pleasure, eyes closed and body completely limp. Spent. He appreciated this attempt to take care of him, love him, even after he had come. But of course he understood when they drew away to pay attention to each other.

From what he heard, Dean nudged Sam back against the pile of pillows and crouched protectively over him. Sam had pushed weakly at him, muttering tiredly about how kissing and spit-roasting Cas was one thing...but this was another entirely. And so Dean had asked him if he was still thirsty. Sam responded with little more than an ashamed whimper. Then they made love.

The mattress rocked and creaked slowly under Castiel, with the thoughtful rhythm of Dean slipping in and out of Sam. He really would've liked to watch their first coupling. He wanted to know exactly which part of Sam Dean had his face pressed into when the sweet nothings that he was murmuring became muffled, what set off Sam's occasional soft cries of, "Dean...De," and why they slowed down towards the end instead of speeding up. He was too worn out to do anything but rest, though. He smiled a little when Dean had his first orgasm, right after Sam's second, and roared out his little brother's name, but that was as much as he did.

He heaved a sigh as they collapsed against the mattress. He could try and regenerate his energy for real now. He wouldn't sleep, but he'd slip into a trance-like state. Which was why he was so startled when a huge hand buried itself in the feathers of one of his wings and Dean growled, "Get your un-virgin ass over here, Cas."

"'Non-virgin' makes more sense," Sam murmured sleepily, as Castiel, through monumental effort, struggled up onto all fours.

"Shut it, Sam. I'm tired." The command was immediately followed by a kiss and hair-stroking, and Castiel smiled as he dragged himself across the bed to where Sam and Dean were draped over each other.

And that was why, right now, they were all tangled together in a warm, sex-scented huddle. Castiel was pressed as tightly to Sam's back as he could get, with his stomach in the condition that it was, and his arm was slung over him so that Dean could hold his hand to his bare chest. One of his wings was spread over all of them in a living blanket, and they seemed to be enjoying that, judging by how they'd snuggled into the downy feathers of the underside when he first moved it into its current position.

Castiel could feel Sam and Dean. How the storms inside of them had both quieted completely - just as his own had. They had fed their hunger as best they could, and now they were all totally and perfectly sated.

For the moment, at least.


End file.
